


On the Prowl

by nessbess



Series: Werewolves of Chicago [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessbess/pseuds/nessbess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fucking Chicago. She should have just let the damn boy walk her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Prowl

**Author's Note:**

> A bonus story for my _Werewolves of Chicago_ universe.

It wasn't that Holly Herkimer was afraid to walk the streets of Southside Chicago at night - no one from their neighbourhood was - but this night seemed different. The full moon above cast a glow over even the darkest of alley ways, but instead of relaxing her like it usually did, the deep shadows of the buildings it cast made her feel jumpy.

She couldn't shake the unease that settled deep in her chest, wrapping cold tendrils of ice around her ribcage as she wrapped her fist in an equally tight grip around her trusty can of mace. Her breath came in short pants that fogged in the wintry air, and she walked with a lilting half-stumble as she fought the urge to run in her four-inch heels. She wrapped the comforting fur of her coat more tightly around her and narrowed her eyes in resolve. Holly Herkimer was no one's damsel in distress.

As she stumbled along, limbs slightly sluggish with booze, Holly cursed the fortunes that had her out alone that night. She had been on a date, of all things. A proper date, with a really nice guy. He had genuinely liked her, she could tell. Not like all the other guys who dated her just because they had heard she was a good, easy fuck. This one had really liked her. And she had really liked him. He had been sweet and charming and interested in everything that she said. It had been nice to talk to a guy who actually listened to her instead of nodding along with a glazed expression, wondering when she would shut up and suggest they just fuck. This guy had really liked her. And she had really liked him. But that only made everything worse. She'd turned him down when he offered to walk her home. There was no room in her life for a nice guy. She didn't deserve one. Eventually he would have figured that out, so really she was only saving valuable time and heartbreak.

She'd stopped in at the Alibi on the way home, flashing her ample cleavage at the first man who'd offer to buy her a drink or six, got royally shitfaced and let him eat her out in the toilets before resuming her miserable walk home. It was better for everyone that way.

But now she was alone, a dull sense of panic swarming around her as a growl sounded in the night.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and Holly squinted into the shadows. A pair of glowing, golden eyes stared right back. Holly froze, a mouse trapped in a viper's hypnotic glare, as a monstrous being stepped into the light.

It was a boy, but not a boy. Its face was oddly misshapen, jaw and forehead protruding unnaturally. Strange dark fur sprouted all along the creature's face like aggressive, scraggly sideburns, behind which a pair of tapered ears jutted. The creature's maw hung open, filled with teeth that would be more apt in a large dog than a man. Above the snarling muzzle, those yellow eyes watched her with a cold intelligence.

Holly took half a step back, giving an undignified squeak as she wobbled on her heels before firmly reminding herself that she was no damsel in distress. She lifted the mace with a shaking hand as the creature gave another wet growl.

"Oi! Mister Fantastical Creature of the Night," came the sudden shout from behind her. Holly had never been so glad to see a Milkovich as the boy came strutting up, glaring fearlessly at the creature but paying her no heed. "What part of 'secret' doesn't sink through that thick skull? Your brother will have your fucking balls if he hears you've been terrorizing the locals," he warned, casually lighting a smoke.

The creature fixed its gaze on the Milkovich - Iggy? Mickey? Joey? Holly couldn't keep them straight - and sounded another vicious snarl that had her heart hiccoughing in her chest.

"Yeah, yeah," Milkovich batted the noise away. "Fuck off."

With one last growl, the creature launched itself onto the nearest rooftop and disappeared.

Without sparing her a single glance, Milkovich sauntered on his way, muttering angrily to himself something about fucking gingers' fucking pack instincts.

Holly sank into the steady layer of Southside piss and grime, hugging her knees tightly to her chest as she waited for the shaking to subside. When she gingerly uncurled them from the mace can, her fingers were stiff and sore and throbbed as the blood once again began to flow. Fucking Chicago. She should have just let the damn boy walk her home.

~*~

"Mickey!"

Mickey was not at all swayed by the dopey grin that spread across the entirety of Ian's face as he walked in. Not at all.

Maybe a little.

He punched Ian anyways.

The werewolf barely recoiled with the force of his blow, but Mickey's hand burned. Ian looked startled and Mickey amped up the power of his own scowl for good measure. Just to make sure the damn wolf got the hint that he was Not Happy.

"I get it," Mickey snapped into Ian's doe eyes, "the need for the alpha wolf to make his own pack of wolves. Really, I do. But what the fuck were you smoking that made you think it was a good idea to give fucking _Carl_ teeth?"


End file.
